At bed time, we give good night kisses. I don’t know how or when it started, but it’s a fairly recent development. I usually start out holding Siren, and Will starts out holding Imogen. I give Siren a kiss, and Will kisses Immy. Then I lean over and kiss Immy, and Will leans over and kisses Siren. Then Siren and Imogen lean toward each other and kiss each other. Then, they each put one arm on each parent, and they say, “Mama, Dadda, kiss.” They push our heads toward each other, and Will and I kiss. Sometimes we have to kiss more than once before we get the satisfied “All done!”
Some days we are so busy, this is the only kissing that Will and I do. And while it’s such a tiny part of our day, I love it, cherish it, and want to remember it. It reminds me of how much children inherently want their parents to be together and love each other. When I’m thinking of certain students and wondering “What on earth is going on with this kid?” part of it may very well be they are missing that piece in their lives.
It reminds me how we came to be in this chaotic situation in the first place: we loved each other enough that we thought just maybe we could take on being responsible for another person’s life.
It reminds me I am so lucky to have my marriage, and that whatever we’re going through, like this morning when Siren had peed through her diaper and pajama pants, and I needed to change her clothes, but I couldn’t find any of her pajamas in the dryer, on the counter (full of clean, folded-laundry) nor in her closet; whatever it may be, that we’re in this together.
And inevitably, some day in the future, when Will and I happen to be affectionate in front of our children, and surely one or the other will say “Ew” or another word with a similar effect, I’ll be able to say, “You know, there was once a time when you WANTED your Dad and I to kiss.”
Thank you for reminding me.